


Death alone shall love you

by dirtyinfluences



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtyinfluences/pseuds/dirtyinfluences
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the prompt: "Thorin has an affair with death. It explains a lot.</p><p>(Basically, give me death personified, male or female, and ship him/her with Thorin.) "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death alone shall love you

**Author's Note:**

> Link for the prompt: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=13947325#t13947325
> 
> Unbeta'd and the first thing written in a long, long time. All mistakes are my own and I encourage you to inform me of them so I can fix them!

She is lithe and pale, and so very unlike the dwarven women of Erebor, yet he still finds himself enchanted by her. She introduces herself as Nínuru, a name that rings of elvish origin, yet the lady herself does not appear to be an elf; while she would be considered short by the standards of men she still fits within their heights, and her ears are rounded beneath her hair.

She is the most beautiful being Thorin has ever seen.

Her dress is discarded on the floor of his chambers, her raven hair is fanned over his pillows. Thorin places a kiss to her collarbone, the taste of salt on his tongue from her skin. It is strange – Nínuru allows him to kiss her, but will not allow any of those kisses to be placed upon her lips, not even after a week of these shared nights. But he does not complain, instead kissing elsewhere on her body, moving down, down, down. After, tangled in finely woven sheets, she hums to him until he falls asleep, cradling his head to her bosom. The tune is sad and slow and deep, filling the room with melancholy.

When Thorin awakens in the morning he is alone.

\--  
A week later, Erebor is lost, taking with it the lives of many with falling stone and dragon’s fire.  
\--

He does not see Nínuru again until the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain have settled in Ered Luin. Their meeting takes place at the dead of night, when the inability to sleep has driven Thorin into walking around the streets of the unfamiliar city. 

He does not think it strange to see her there, in this dwarven city and so far from Erebor. All he can think that he is so relieved to see her again, standing there before him in her black and gold gown, alive and unharmed. 

After they embrace he kisses the hollow of her throat, her fingers smoothing over the fur of his coat.

“I need to leave soon, my love,” she tells him, taking a step back and cupping his jaw in one hand. “But I will be back.”

He knows then, without a doubt, that she has claimed his heart.

\--  
A sickness falls over the town the following day, picking off the weakened and the old, and lingers for the rest of the season  
\--

When Nínuru returns, almost ten years later, she settles in a small town of men on the outskirts of the mountain range. It is a town Thorin frequents for work, and only a few hours travel from the dwarven settlement in the mountain. He takes up a more permanent position as a smith in the town, spending long days at the forge and his nights in her bed when he does not need to be with his family. 

She looks just as young as when they first meet, still wearing gowns of black and gold, but Thorin is still so stricken with her that he doesn’t think to question it. It is as if he had forgotten that men age differently than dwarves. Or if he does remember, he cannot find it in himself to care when he has this one sense of normality back in his life. 

This time it is Thorin who leaves – called to battle against the Orcs of the Misty Mountains. He promises Nínuru that he’ll be back shortly, that it’ll be easy to win against the vile creatures his kinsmen are fighting, with lingering touches. In return, she tells him that she loves him, and that she awaits the day they will be reunited.

\--  
But it’s not over quickly like he had anticipated, stretching over years until the war finally comes to a head at the Battle of Azanulbizar. The dwarves win, but it is very much a pyrrhic victory. And while it serves to add fuel to the deep, burning hatred that already simmers in Thorin’s heart, it is also fills him with something new – a hollowed out feeling akin to defeat.

He has gained the name Oakenshield, but he has also lost his grandfather, his father _and_ his brother.

It hardly feels worth it.  
\--

When he returns to Ered Luin he does not seek his lady out right away. Instead, he goes straight to Dís, and the two siblings spend long hours in each other’s embrace, mourning their family together. It is only once his sister turns to her husband that he thinks about shining, black hair and pale skin and he goes to find Nínuru.

But when he arrives at the house she had been occupying, it is empty and appears to have been uninhabited for quite some time. Perhaps years.

Thorin Oakenshield’s loses are already too great, and he numbly accepts this one with nothing more than a sigh, his heavy heart withdrawing further into itself.

\--  
The seasons come and go and the years pass, and slowly Thorin starts becoming something of his former self again. His nephews are born and he finds himself smiling more, his sisters-sons a balm to the marks on his soul, as well as the handful of friends he has gotten to keep. However, the wounds inflicted upon him are too grievous at this point, and he doubts he will ever heal completely.

But then hope comes in the form of a wandering wizard and 12 loyal and willing hearts.  
\--

Erebor is theirs once again, but at a great cost. Hundreds of more lives have been lost in the process, including his beloved sisters-sons. But this time, Thorin knows he is destined to follow the departed. Part of him is glad for this; he knows that if it wasn’t the deep wound in his side slowly bleeding out it would have been the guilt and sadness that would have gotten him instead.

So he says his parting words to Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, hobbit of the Shire, and he closes his eyes and waits for death to claim him. As his consciousness fades, he finds an odd last thought crossing his mind; Nínuru, and how he wishes he could have seen her one last time. For she was truly his one, and although he had been numbed by his losses over the years, his love for her had never gone away.

An odd feeling tingles beneath his skin then, a wave of warmth that washes away all his pain and aches, and a soft pair of lips descends upon his to chase away this healing tide. Opening his eyes, he is met with a face he knows well, and a laugh he has not heard for a long time dances around him.

“Nínuru.” He whispers, and she leans in again to kiss him.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” She whispers back, “did I not say that I await our reunion? I have missed you, my love.”

For Thorin was a remarkable dwarf, not only in his achievements, but in that he found his loved one in Death.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wasn't going to name the Death, but in the end decided it would be easier to do so. Her name is a combination of the Quenya words "ní", a poetic word for woman, and "nuru", one of the words given for Death. Of course, I don't know any Quenya, and those were simply gotten by looking over the wordlist found here: http://www.uib.no/People/hnohf/wordlists.htm
> 
> OP said either male or female, but whenever I think of the personification of death I tend to envision a woman.
> 
> Any and all thoughts are welcome! It's been a long time since I've written anything outside of school essays, so any feedback would be helpful.


End file.
